


High School is Hell (When Your Face Doesn't Fit)

by Swordy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordy/pseuds/Swordy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is disfigured from the fire that killed his mother. Most of the time his scars don't bother him, but sometimes, even though he doesn't realise it, he needs a little brother to look out for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High School is Hell (When Your Face Doesn't Fit)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 SPN Reverse Bang challenge. Based on the fabulous artwork by Lidoshka.

When classes get out, Sam allows himself to acknowledge the feeling of relief that he’s survived the day without incident. It’s not relief that school is over, because if there’s one thing he loves without question it’s learning, but it’s relief that he’s survived his first day in that unwanted yet achingly familiar role of new boy in a reasonably large high school.   

In fact he’d even go as far to suggest he’d actually _enjoyed_ the day rather than just endured it. The classes had been interesting, the teachers he’d crossed paths with had given the impression that they might actually derive some satisfaction from their chosen vocation and, best of all, some of his fellow students had actually spoken to him without being forced to by the faculty.

He spots the Impala in the parking lot and heads over to it. Dad has allowed Dean to take the car today – standard Winchester practice when they’re in a new town - but his brother’s nowhere to be seen so he dumps his pack on the ground and pulls himself up to sit on the hood. The weather is clement and he shucks off his jacket to join his books on the ground.

He’s only been there a few minutes when he spots a familiar figure trudging between the rows of cars. It’s also impossible to miss the ripple of interest that this arrival creates amongst the other students milling about in the afternoon sunshine.

_You see him? That’s the new kid I was talking about._

_Look! Oh God, that’s just freaky!_

_Seriously? You think he’d cover it up or something._

In the not-so-covert whispering there’s nothing Sam hasn’t heard before: in fact, it’s a relatively tame welcome to the one Dean often receives when they land somewhere, often mid way through the school year, which always adds an extra neon sign to the one that already marks them out as ‘different’.

Of course the gossiping usually gets a little more subtle once they realise that Sam has a connection to this new and fascinating addition to the student body but he still manages to overhear his fair share of judgments and commentaries on his brother’s unique appearance. Still, he’s learned over the years that whispers behind hands are better than open hostility.

Sam was barely six months old when the fire claimed the life of his mother and irreversibly marked his father and four-year-old brother. His dad’s scars are confined to his arms and often covered by the plaid shirts he favours, even though he has no issue in rolling his sleeves up to reveal the damaged flesh.

Dean however, wasn’t so lucky.

Sam knows he’s been spotted when Dean frowns his disapproval at his choice of resting spot but he doesn’t comment on it.

“Hey, assmunch,” Dean says, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Takes one to know one.”

He slides off the hood and retrieves his belongings as Dean throws his own pack on the back seat and climbs in behind the wheel. As he joins his brother in the car he glances across, trying to gauge from the set of Dean’s shoulders and the fix of his jaw how the day has panned out for him.

It’s a cruel illusion studying his brother’s profile from here. From this side Dean holds the appearance of a typical seventeen-year-old boy, features subtly rearranging themselves over the days and months to give a hint of the adult he will become. A smattering of golden stubble frames the lower half of his face but the composition is incomplete: a work of art abandoned by its petulant creator but not before they destroyed the other half of the canvas to stop anyone else finishing it.

For Dean’s face is a half mask of his suffering. Since that night of flames and heat he has worn those terrible memories on his skin: raw, angry flesh acting as a constant reminder of the tragedy to the remaining members of the Winchester clan.

“So how were your classes?” Dean asks gruffly as he starts the engine and guides the Impala out onto the street. Sam knows this is his brother’s way of deflecting attention from himself.

“Okay.”

“You top of the class yet?”

He makes his _ha, ha you’re so hilarious_ face, which he knows Dean has seen judging by the smirk that tugs at his brother’s lips. There’s silence until they hit a red light.

“Anyone give you any shit today?” Dean asks, the smirk gone and his voice now hard as stone. Sam knows this tone well: both Dad and Dean have it perfected so it carries the unspoken message that they will accept nothing less than the truth from him.

“No, Dean. I spoke to a few people who asked stuff like where we’d moved from. You know, _normal_ conversations, like _normal_ people do?”

He risks a glance as the lights change and they pull away from the intersection; Dean is scowling at the sarcasm with an expression he’s also borrowed from their father. Sam can’t decide whether it’s this similarity or the fact that they both insist on treating him like a five-year-old that irritates him more.

“No need to be such a bitch. It was just a question.”

Dean’s response causes his indignation to soften. He reminds himself Dean asks because he cares, even if the delivery leaves a lot to be desired. Also the fact that Dean sounds a little hurt is enough to tell him that his brother’s own first day has probably been less than stellar.

He bites the bullet and decides to ask.

Dean shrugs with apparent nonchalance – his first clue that he’s right to be concerned. He wonders if Dean knows his tells are so obvious, particularly when he’s concentrating on driving. He doubts it; Dean is as keen to be the unshakeable big brother as Sam is to believe it’s true. That said, he’s not about to tell Dean he can read him so easily for fear he’ll lose his only insight into the boy hell-bent on modelling himself in John Winchester’s impenetrable image.

“You know,” Dean says eventually when he realises Sam is waiting for more than a half-hearted gesture by way of response. “Different school, same old shit.”

Which of course is Dean-speak for _I’ve been stared at, talked about and treated like I’m carrying a communicable disease since I stepped through the doors,_ and despite his own good fortune Sam can’t help but hate the school a bit for being home to such ignorant assholes.

 He wants to tell Dean to fuck ‘em, but if he doesn’t get a crack around the head for the profanity then he’ll almost certainly get his brother’s feigned indifference, which is equally as painful. So instead he turns his attention to the passing scenery and endures the silence that follows them the entire way home.

They’ve been back at their tiny apartment above the video store for a couple of hours when there’s the sound of a truck pulling up outside.  Dean mutes the battered television set he is watching as he lies on the couch, one leg hooked lazily over the arm.

From his position at the table, Sam glances up from his reading to see his brother start to shift. Dean’s trying to make the movements look casual, like he intended to sit up anyway, but it’s an unconvincing act to a little brother who has seen this show a thousand times before. Dean is the good soldier awaiting the arrival of his commanding officer. He doesn’t jump up and stand to attention, but Sam wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he did.

As footsteps can be heard on metal staircase Sam takes the opportunity to watch Dean some more. The scarring on his brother’s face makes it impossible to read Dean’s expression from this angle, but the tension in his body is clear as he waits to see if this is a threat he needs to respond to or not. Sam wonders how many of his fellow students live constantly anticipating a threat when someone approaches their door and knows almost certainly that the answer is ‘none of them’.

Dean’s hand is resting on the gun he has half-concealed under the couch as the door unlocks. It’s also a familiar act and Sam thinks their dad would probably be more pissed to find Dean didn’t have a weapon at hand than he would if his son got trigger happy and accidentally shot him.

When the door opens and the resulting space is filled with John Winchester’s not insignificant frame neither boy relaxes until he steps across the salt line. As he moves he reveals Bobby Singer, expression masked by the ever-present baseball cap, who steps into the apartment after their father and closes the door behind him.

Sam glances at his brother and notes that Dean has relaxed a little. He understands the reaction because he feels exactly the same – company usually means that they’ll get cut a little slack and he’s doubly pleased that it’s Bobby, who seems to have as much time for he and Dean as he does for their dad.

“Hi, boys,” their father says and although he’s smiling, his dark eyes are doing their usual rapid assessment of the both of them. He has a bruise on his right cheek but otherwise looks none the worse for wear.

“Hi, Dad. Hi, Uncle Bobby,” Sam says, with his brother’s greeting only a fraction behind his own.

“Sam. Dean,” Bobby replies nodding at each of them in turn.

Dean is standing now and Sam watches as Bobby looks his brother up and down before his expression crinkles fondly. “Holy crap, boy you got tall. Did your brother finally convince you to start eating your greens?”

Sam warms at the fond expression Bobby throws his way. Dean snorts by way of reply.

 “Beer?” John says, extending a cold bottle to his fellow hunter, who accepts it gratefully.

“So how’d the hunt go?” Dean asks, his enthusiasm clear. Sam’s interested too, but he’s not sure he’ll ever share his brother’s need to soak up every little detail about what was killed and how.

“Uh uh,” their father replies, shaking his head while he swallows a mouthful of his own beer. “You first. How was school?”

Sam watches as his brother’s expression darkens. Dean might be able to give him the sullen teenager brush off, but their father will not be so easily dissuaded from the details.

“It was school, Dad. It sucked.”

“ _Dean_.”

The warning tone is clear. Dean’s not an idiot so he doesn’t risk pushing his luck any further, but he’s clearly not happy about it either. He sighs and looks over to where Sam is sitting.

“We did all the usual admin stuff, gave the usual excuses about why we’ve moved here midway through the semester, got our class lists and that’s pretty much it. I didn’t really speak to anyone, but Boy Wonder here says he did.”

Sam now finds himself under his father’s scrutiny, which is obviously what Dean intended. He shrugs; Dean’s not wrong – it _was_ a fairly ordinary day for the two of them, given that they’ve done the new kid drill often enough.

“It was okay. I chatted to a few people and some of the teachers seem cool.” He ignores his brother’s scowl, which Dean’s shooting at him while their father’s attention is elsewhere.

“Good,” John replies, nodding thoughtfully before he turns his attention back to Dean. “Any questions you couldn’t answer?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good.”

A new school always raises the possibility of stimulating interest in their nomadic lifestyle and the slightest hint of Child Protective Services becoming involved will result in them having to cut and run. From personal experience, Sam knows this is a disastrous outcome, especially if their father has no choice but to abandon the hunt and call in favours to get the job done.

It’s easier therefore to stick to the script and not try to arouse suspicion in the first place.

“Bobby,” John says, evidently done with the questioning for now. “You staying for dinner?”

“Depends. Are you cookin’?”

Sam stifles a laugh; a quick glance at his brother tells him Dean is doing the same too. The hunt’s obviously gone well because there’s a hint of a smile on their dad’s lips.

“Hell no. I was thinking of Chinese. That sound good to you boys?”

It’s _definitely_ gone well, then.

“I’ll go,” Dean says and waits as the dad fishes some money out of his wallet.

“Want me to come give you a hand?” Bobby asks and Sam can’t fail to see how Dean’s expression brightens at the question. His brother’s got a real bond with Bobby – there’s an element of hero worship that almost comes close to the one Dean has for their dad – and it warms Sam that Bobby clearly holds Dean in the same esteem.

Dean and Bobby leave and John comes to sit at the table. Sam can feel his father’s scrutiny as he studies his homework assignment and he wonders if John is disappointed that he doesn’t show the same enthusiasm for hunting as Dean. He’s contemplating feigning interest when John speaks first.

“So this school seems okay, Sammy?”

He ignores the use of the nickname that neither Dean nor their dad seems capable of dropping, his mind more preoccupied with why John really wants to know about the school.

“Uh, yeah. The classes seem okay and I wasn’t treated like a massive freak so I’d class that as a pretty good first day.”

John doesn’t respond for a moment but he’s nodding thoughtfully. “So you’d be okay if we stayed here a while?”

He meets his father’s searching gaze with surprise. “A while like..?”

John shrugs. “A few months maybe, possibly more.”

That’s a surprise. They’ve stayed in some places for several months and one or two almost half a year before moving on, but it’s rare and he’d been under the impression that this wasn’t going to be one of those times.

“This job,” John continues, “it looks like it’s going to be bigger than we first thought and I’ve been asked to stick around.”

He’s looking now, scrutinising his youngest son’s face for tacit permission even though John Winchester’s word on any subject will always be final. Sam, for his part, doesn’t see any reason why this should be a problem; the apartment’s okay and they’ve definitely enrolled in worse schools.

“Cool,” he replies, his mind wandering to the school notice board containing all the extra-curricular activities that he’d assumed would be out of bounds if they were due to up and leave in a matter of weeks. He’s pretty sure he saw openings on the debate team advertised.

“Good,” John repeats, like this is his word of the day. There’s a second’s hesitation before he says, “Do you think Dean will be okay with it?”

This is definitely a trickier question since Dean is always so guarded about his feelings and he definitely doesn’t want to put words in his brother’s mouth. However, he knows that if their dad says they need to stay then Dean will say it’s okay, whether it is or it isn’t.

“I dunno, Dad,” he replies honestly. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

John smiles and ruffles his hair affectionately, sending it into disarray. “I know you will, Sammy. I know you will.”

OoOoO

They had discovered the Chinese restaurant on their second night in Shallow Falls and have been regular patrons ever since. The food is good and the prices better. Bobby defers to Dean’s expertise on the matter and stands back as the teenager orders enough food for two adults and two growing young men. ‘Twenty minutes’, the petite Asian lady tells him as money changes hands.

She’s obviously seen Dean in here enough to pay no attention to the boy’s scars. A couple of teenage customers are clearly fascinated and talking about him until they catch Bobby looking. When he doesn’t look away, they turn their attention and their conversation elsewhere. Dean rejoins him moments later. If Dean knew he was being talked about, he doesn’t let on.

“So how you doing, kid?” he asks as Dean sits down beside him, crunching his way through the handful of peanuts he’d scooped from the dish on the counter. Bobby wonders whether he should give the teenager the facts about how complimentary snacks in bars and food outlets are usually less hygienic than public toilets.

Dean shrugs. “You know; can’t really complain.”

“Your dad says you fractured your wrist on the last hunt.”

“Yeah,” Dean replies, holding his left arm up as if he’d forgotten about it until it got mentioned. He flexes the appendage, smiles and lays it down in his lap. “Awesome hunt though.”

Bobby smiles too; the boy’s enthusiasm is infectious even if his introduction to what hunters refer to as ‘the life’ was bloody and tragic. It still concerns him though – ever since Jim brought the Winchesters crashing into his life he’s worried for John’s eldest son, so content and almost hell-bent on seeing himself as a hunter and nothing more.

“So earlier... you didn’t sound too impressed with your new school,” he asks, trying to sound casual enough that it won’t cause Dean’s defences to snap into position. He gets another shrug for his trouble.

“Like I said earlier, it sucks, but what school doesn’t?” Dean offers him a humourless smile. “Trust me, when you’ve heard one Freddy Krueger insult, you’ve heard them all.”

And this _does_ make Bobby sad because he knows every word is true.

“Kids can be assholes,” he says, knowing it doesn’t change anything, but compelled to voice the thought anyway.

Dean nods and, in a way that has nothing to do with his disfigured facial features, looks about ten years older.

“Yeah, they’re just douches. I hate when they start to give Sammy shit about it though.” Dean cracks his knuckles noisily and yawns. “It’s not his fault they don’t like the way I look.”

_Dammit, boy, it’s not yours either_ , Bobby thinks.

But the small Asian woman calls Dean’s name and the teenager stands up to collect their food before he can offer a suitable reply.

OoOoO

They’ve been attending Shallow Falls High for almost three weeks before there’s a hint of real trouble. Sam’s just leaving third period history when he starts to catch wind about a fight that took place while he was busy studying the Civil War.

Whether it’s Winchester instinct or just a wearied awareness that shitty luck comes their way more often than not, he’s already sensing this news is relevant to him. It’s confirmed when he hears someone say: “ _it was that scarred kid that started here last month.”_

His heart sinks and he heads towards the school offices.

Turns out he can’t find his brother until the end of the day when Dean is waiting for him in the parking lot, slouched against the hood of the Impala. He’s scuffing the dirt with his sneakers and doesn’t seem aware of Sam’s approach until the last moment.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Dean replies. “Come on.”

They’ve been travelling for almost five minutes when Sam decides he can’t take the silence any longer.

“Dean?”

“What?”

“What happened today? Did you get into a fight with someone?”

Dean sighs, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “It’s none of your business, Sam, and you need to promise me you’ll not to say anything to Dad, you hear?”

So that’s a yes then. Dean does glance at him now and his expression is as hard as his voice.

“ _Sam_?”

“Okay, I promise I’ll not tell Dad, but what were you fighting about?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

The terseness of Dean’s responses give him all the information he needs: this is about bullying, plain and simple. When it’s happened before it’s usually centred around Dean’s scarred appearance because kids are lazy and lack the creativity needed to find other unfounded reasons to hate people, but he knows that if it’s resulted in violence then it means it’s probably been going on since they first arrived.

“Dean, if other kids are giving you a hard time then you need to talk to Dad-”

“A hard time?” Dean snorts, like this is clearly the most ridiculous idea on the planet. “Sammy, people don’t give me a _hard time._ ”

“Fine. Fine. Forget I said anything.”

“Already have.”

He quickly discovers the entire conversation is redundant when they arrive back at the apartment to find their dad already home and wearing an expression that says he’s not a happy bunny.

“Dean,” John says in a voice that brooks no protest. “I want to speak to you. Sammy, you can wait outside.”

As the door is closing behind him, Sam hears their father say, “So I got a call from the school earlier...” confirming his suspicions that Dean is not going to get his wish to keep today’s incident under wraps.

He’s sitting on the steps, attempting to make a start on his math homework when the familiar rumble of a Camaro heralds the arrival of Bobby Singer. He closes his book and watches as the hunter climbs from his vehicle. Bobby starts slightly when he sees Sam sitting there, his guarded expression changing to one of concern.

“Sam? Where’s your daddy and Dean?”

Sam jerks his head back towards the apartment, just as John can be heard shouting, “Dammit, Dean! How hard is it for you to stay out of trouble for just five minutes, huh?”

Bobby nods in comprehension.

“What’d your brother do now?” There’s no malice in the man’s words though. Sam knows that’s because Bobby doesn’t believe Dean is as bad as their father thinks. He shakes his head.

“I dunno. I heard something about a fight at school, but Dean wouldn’t tell me anything. He told me not to say anything to Dad, but we just got home and someone from the school’s already called.”

“Ah,” Bobby replies. He removes his cap, wipes a hand across his forehead and replaces it.

When they hear Dean’s subdued apology, signalling that the lecture is over, Sam decides to bite the bullet before it’s too late.

“Uncle Bobby? Is there any way you could you talk to my dad? I know he doesn’t want Dean fighting or anything, but he... he doesn’t understand what it’s like at school, especially for Dean.”

He stops suddenly, the tears burning hotly in his eyes and throat. He looks away, blinking furiously when a hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

“I’ll speak to your daddy, Sam. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

OoOoO

It’s late and they’ve decimated the best part of a bottle of Jack between them when Bobby feels he can say anything to John. He’s learnt from experience that conversations with John Winchester about either of his sons are best lubricated with alcohol.

They’ve talked ‘shop’ throughout the evening, the conversation growing darker and more graphic after first Sam and then Dean had been ordered to bed. During this natural hiatus between topics, Bobby decides it’s time to address the issue he’d promised Sam he’d raise.

“Dean was quiet tonight,” he observes, apropos of nothing.

“Hn,” is the caveman-esque reply. John downs the last of his drink and goes to pour himself another. For a moment Bobby thinks he’s going to have to be a little less subtle, but then John looks up at him wearily.

“He’s just pissed. I had to punish him earlier for fighting in school.” John shakes his head in apparent disbelief. “He _knows_ we need to keep a low profile and then he goes and draws attention to himself like this. Honestly, Bobby, I don’t know how many times I need to tell him, when he does shit like this, people start asking questions and when that happens it means we have to skip town. I mean, what the hell’s he _playing_ at, jeopardising the hunt when he knows how much work we’ve put in?”

It’s a harsh criticism; Dean is little more than a kid and the unfailing obedience John expects from him at all times is a tall order for anyone to live up to, let alone a teenager with as tough a life as Dean’s.

“To be fair, John, Dean is _always_ going to stand out.”

John looks straight at him with a piercing expression that threatens violence. A more easily intimidated man would apologise and bow out of this conversation before things turn really ugly, but direct is the only way Bobby knows and coincidentally is the only way to get through to this bull-headed man. If it comes to blows, then so be it.

“He’s a good kid, John, but high school is _tough_. Surely you can remember that – hell, I can and I’ve a few more years on you.”

The murderous look is still there, but there’s a pained quality to it now. He knows John would give anything to change things for his eldest son, like Dean’s scars are a personal failing on his part, but doesn’t seem to realise that cutting Dean some slack or showing the boy a little compassion would be as beneficial in his children’s eyes.

 “I’ll talk to him,” John says and with that, the conversation is over.

OoOoO

In John’s defence, he intends to speak to Dean the following morning, but a phone call at a little after four am puts paid to that. He rouses his eldest son, tells him the hunt has taken on a new, more urgent twist, and entrusts Dean to take care of his brother while he’s gone. It’s only when he’s ten miles down the road does he remember the previous night’s discussion with Bobby Singer. He also realises he never told Dean they’re likely to be staying. He curses, even though there’s no one to hear it, and vows to speak to Dean about Bobby’s concerns once he’s back.

After all, it’s probably nothing.

OoOoO

Despite the distraction of those precious extra-curricular activities, Sam makes a point of paying closer attention to his brother’s movements. Dean’s never been a fan of school and cuts classes where he can, but he’s always careful to avoid detection, especially when their father insists they need to keep their heads down. He doesn’t know if their dad has told Dean they may be staying here a while, but the lecture following the fight will be enough to ensure that Dean is especially careful to stay under the radar.

Between the classes Dean actually shows up for, Sam struggles to locate him. Usually Dean will ingratiate himself with other students who, at best, can also be described as ‘educationally disaffected’, but he’s nowhere to be found. This has happened once before, but, unlike last time, there doesn’t seem to be a girl involved.

Even though Dean is keeping a low profile, it seems his presence has spread throughout the school anyway. He never hears his brother mentioned by name, but ‘that new kid with the fucked-up face’ is a close-enough description to ensure Sam knows it’s Dean they’re talking about.

He quickly realises there’s a small clique in Dean’s year who have taken a particular dislike to his brother. He figures one of their number must have been the other party in the fight and the animosity has escalated from there. They don’t seem to have realised, however, that Sam is related to their new figure of fun and ridicule, and as a result he can observe their actions freely.

From what Sam can gather, Dean is managing to keep out of their way. The result, however, is an obvious determination on the clique’s part to find another way to push Dean into some sort of confrontation. The irony is, Dean could handle any one – and probably all – of those idiots. The problem is their dad’s order to stay out of trouble will prevent him from acting.

Weeks pass and Sam’s concern grows. Dean’s never made a secret of how much he dislikes school in general, but the bitching ceases, indeed, Sam finds that Dean hardly speaks at all. The only exception is when their dad is around and filling them in on the hunt he’s on with Bobby. It’s like hunting is the only thing that can pierce the veil of Dean’s otherwise bleak existence and it’s certainly the only time Sam now sees his brother smile.

Bobby’s initial intel had suggested a couple of vampires; the reality is a whole nest, which could lead them to other nests around the Midwest. It’s a major coup and both John and Bobby make no secret of their enthusiasm for these developments.

Obviously Sam’s pleased too, but he worries that it’s keeping Dean from saying how he _really_ feels about staying in Shallow Falls. Sam makes the mistake of trying to talk to Dean once. It’s after Dean has been given detention for failing to hand in an assignment, which Sam knows damn well that his brother actually did. When he overhears some of Dean’s tormentors talking about how they’d raided his brother’s locker earlier in the day and destroyed his books, he snaps and confronts Dean as they’re driving home.

Sam knows Dean doesn’t like him interfering in his business, but he’s still taken aback by his brother’s fury.

_No, Sam! You’re making a big deal out of nothing. Don’t you dare fuck this up for Dad and Bobby, you hear me, Sammy? I swear, I’ll never forgive you, if you do._

He’s so shocked he agrees to Dean’s demands.

Without a doubt, Sam’s biggest clue regarding the depths of Dean’s unhappiness is in his brother’s choice of clothes. Both of them emulate their father’s style of wearing layers, but Dean has also amassed an impressive collection of hoodies and, over the years, Sam come to realise that there’s a pattern: Dean wears the hoodies like armour and, therefore, the unhappier he is, the more action they see.

Dean never actually makes _use_ of the hoods. It’s not like he’s trying to conceal his scars, but Sam thinks that having the _potential_ to hide them is something that Dean finds unconsciously reassuring.

In the last few weeks, Sam realises, Dean has worn a hoodie every since day he’s been in school.

OoOoO

Sam keeps his concerns to himself, reluctantly, until an incident just before Thanksgiving. School is out for the day and he says goodbye to his friends before heading out to the parking lot to meet his brother. When he gets there he almost misses Dean, who is bent over examining something round the driver’s side of the car.

“Hey,” Sam says. He watches Dean jump and straighten sharply. The look on his brother’s face is indefinable, but it’s clear something bad has happened. “What?”

“Get in the car, Sammy.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but Dean’s glare stops him in his tracks. Instead, he climbs into the car and puts his pack at his feet. The journey is conducted in torturous silence; occasionally Sam steals glances at his brother and notes the rigid tension. Dean doesn’t even put any music on, which is a further indicator that something is very wrong.

When they arrive back at the apartment, Dean parks the car and shuts off the engine. He sits for a moment, sighs, and then finally turns to look at Sam. Sam’s relieved to see his brother’s expression has softened somewhat.

“Here,” Dean says, fishing in his jacket for his wallet. He pulls out some bills and holds them out. “Go to the store and get yourself some candy or _Geek Weekly_ or whatever you like to buy when you’re there. My treat.”

Sam takes the money. He doesn’t want to because he can see it for what it is: a diversion. Dean’s saying ‘I need you out the way for a while, but I don’t want you to ask why’, and although the offer is transparent, he’s going to go along with it because his brother’s desperation is equally clear.

“You want me to get you anything?” Sam asks.

“No, I’m good,” Dean replies, even though it’s blatantly obvious that he isn’t.

OoOoO

Sam manages to kill fifteen minutes at the store. He takes his time browsing the magazines until the guy behind the counter reminds him it isn’t a library, then selects some candy and pays for his goods. Despite Dean saying he didn’t want anything, he buys his brother some M&Ms anyway.

He saunters home, mentally trying to revise his knowledge of geometry because Mr. Mills had said there’d definitely be a test tomorrow, but he gets distracted by thoughts of Dean. He’s only made it up the first couple of steps when his father’s voice cuts through the air.

“Goddammit, Dean! Don’t you think I’ve enough on my plate without having to start fixing the car too? The whole wing will need re-spraying or it’ll start to rust.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. It was an accident.”

Dean sounds genuinely contrite, but their dad is clearly not in the mood for apologies.

“It’s not an accident – it’s carelessness, plain and simple. The car’s got mirrors for a reason, Dean. Frankly if you can’t reverse it without putting a huge scratch down the side, I’m not sure you should be driving it at all.”

Sam frowns. He wants to hear the rest of this conversation, but he’s overcome with curiosity. Walking back down the steps, he heads over to the car and, lo and behold, there’s a deep white scratch running horizontally across the shiny black paintwork of the Impala’s driver’s door.

There’s nothing significant about the scratch, but in that instant Sam knows one thing for certain: Dean didn’t put it there.

OoOoO

Dean is grounded. He’s given a large pile of weapons to clean, which their dad makes him do in their bedroom so he can’t watch any TV and when Sam asks if he can take Dean a slice of the cherry pie they had after dinner, the answer is a sharply uttered ‘no’. The glare that accompanies the answer tells Sam that it’s more than his life’s worth to sneak the pie in when John’s not looking.

Dean’s still working his way through the cache of guns when Sam comes to bed. There’s a long smear of oil across his unscarred cheek and his hands look red and raw from hours spent meticulously dissembling, cleaning and reassembling the weapons. He glances up briefly as the door opens.

“Give me a minute. I’ll move these off your bed.”

Sam gets ready for bed in the bathroom. When he returns to the bedroom Dean isn’t there, but he can hear voices from the main living area; their dad is appraising Dean’s handiwork. ‘You can do the rest tomorrow’ he hears John say gruffly.

He’s under the covers when Dean comes in and quietly closes the door behind him. Without speaking, Dean strips down to his t-shirt and boxers and climbs into his own bed. He lies on his side, his back to Sam.

Sam studies his brother across the narrow gap between their beds. The burns Dean sustained in the fire all those years ago also disfigured his neck and left shoulder and for a moment Sam allows himself to be transfixed by the shiny swirls of scar tissue. He doesn’t notice Dean’s scars – not unless he deliberately looks at them, like now. To him, Dean is just Dean. He doesn’t understand why others can’t do the same.

“Dean.”

He sees Dean sigh, like he knew Sam would have to say _something_. “What?”

“You didn’t scratch the car, did you?”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“I don’t understand why you’d—”

“Shut _up,_ Sam. Seriously, just leave it, okay?” Dean turns over now to glare at him. “Remember, you promised me you wouldn’t say anything to Dad.”

“Trust me, I know,” Sam replies sullenly, turning his back on his brother in frustration. He won’t break a promise to Dean, but then it occurs to him: maybe he can’t say anything to their dad, but he _can_ say something to Bobby Singer.

OoOoO

John continues to punish Dean for damaging the car, so it’s easy for Sam to slip away and make a call to Bobby when they return from school the following day. Bobby advises he _did_ speak to John about talking to Dean, but admits that he doesn’t know whether John actually followed through.

Sam tells him about his worries: that Dean seems miserable and he’s now taking the blame for the bullies’ actions because he doesn’t want to tell their dad. He attempts to explain his brother’s logic, even though it doesn’t make any sense to him either. Dean won’t say anything in case John decides to up and move and, therefore, jeopardise the hunt. He tells Bobby that Dean’s made him promise not to say anything either.

Bobby curses and promises Sam that he’ll talk to John again in person, even if he has to drag him over there himself. Sam thanks him and ends the call. Later that evening, John gets a call from Bobby and tells his sons he has to go out. He leaves, but not before reminding Dean that he wants the rest of the guns cleaned and reassembled before he gets home. Dean’s ‘Yes, Sir’ is the last word on the subject.

Sam looks up from his homework assignment as their dad leaves. Dean is engrossed in taking apart John’s Glock and doesn’t appear at all suspicious about why their dad has gone out. In fairness, being left home alone at a moment’s notice is nothing unusual for John Winchester’s sons.

OoOoO

Bobby opens the door to John’s unsmiling face just over an hour later. It’s not that John’s pissed about anything; this is just his focussed expression that says he expects Bobby has called him over to discuss the hunt.

“Come on in,” Bobby says. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

They head through into the living room. John takes a seat on Bobby’s threadbare couch while Bobby takes the armchair. Bobby wonders whether they should discuss the hunt a little first, but then he recalls Sam’s distressed tones and figures the time for playing nice has long gone.

“So, did you find out anymore about those sightings in Illinois? Goddamned vamps seem to be taking over the place at this rate.”

Bobby sighs. “John, I didn’t ask you to come over to talk about the hunt. I need to speak to you about Dean.”

John’s face clouds with annoyance, although whether it’s Bobby’s apparent deception or the fact that he’s still pissed with his eldest son, Bobby isn’t sure.

“I’m worried about him, John, and so is Sam.”

At the mention of Sam, John nods in comprehension. “Sammy told you about Dean scratching the car, huh?”

“Goddammit, John! Open your eyes, will you?! Dean didn’t damage the car – some snot-nosed little shit at his school did it, but he won’t tell you because he thinks it’ll distract you from the hunt and he won’t fight back because you ordered him not to!”

John looks momentarily taken aback. He opens his mouth to respond, but Bobby isn’t done yet.

“That boy is _suffering_ , John. Kids are cruel and Dean’s had to cope all his life with stares and name-calling. That’s not Dean’s fault and it’s not yours either, but you’re asking him to put up with it and not retaliate for the sake of a hunt. He’s tough, John, but he’s not made of stone.” Bobby pauses, his anger spent. His voice is even when he speaks again. “You need to talk to him, John.”

This is the critical moment and Bobby can only hope it won’t end with him having to chase the other hunter off his property with a shotgun. It’s clear that his words have pierced the hard outer shell of John’s stubbornness when John drops his head into his hands. Several moments have passed before he looks up, his expression filled with sadness rather than anger.

“I’ll talk to him, but I don’t know how I can make it any better for him, Bobby. If I tell him to fight back, the schools start labelling him a delinquent and Child Protective Services get interested. But I can’t just let him drop out. This life... it’s already a world away from what Mary and I wanted for him -- and Sam too. I know he likes hunting and I’m okay with that, but he should have a back-up plan. The kid needs some qualifications, Bobby.”

“I hear you,” Bobby replies. “So I’ve got a suggestion, if you’ll hear me out.”

John is listening.

OoOoO

John is good to his word this time. When Sam is in the shower the following morning, he goes to find Dean. The teenager is eating cereal leaning against the counter in the tiny kitchenette and looks up with a slightly wary expression.

“Dean,” John says sliding into one of the chairs. “You got a minute?”

“Yes, Sir,” Dean replies, almost successfully masking his hesitation. The spoon clatters slightly as he lets it drop into his bowl.

“Son... I know we went over this before, but I want you to tell me why you ended up fighting with that boy a few weeks back.”

He sees his son’s shoulders slump before they twitch upwards in a quick shrug; this is clearly a subject Dean doesn’t want to talk about.

“It wasn’t a fight; the guy’s a jerk and I told him to stop acting like one, which he didn’t like. He went to hit me, so I pushed him away – that was what the teacher saw.” Dean shrugs again. “It was stupid of me, I know.”

John nods at the explanation. The reality is Dean hasn’t really told him anything, and it hits him that ordinarily he wouldn’t challenge this evasion, even though he can see it’s plainly not the whole story. He swallows down the bitter taste of guilt.

“I’m not doubting you, son, but you wanna tell me why exactly you thought he was acting like an idiot?”

 Clearly Dean is surprised by his perseverance.

“He was picking on some kid.”

“Not you then?”

Dean blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t picking on you, was he?”

“No, Sir,” Dean replies, but the split-second break in eye contact says otherwise. The pain in John’s heart intensifies.

“I want the truth, Dean.” His voice is gentle but firm, knowing this tone will always inspire obedience in his eldest son. He’s not disappointed.

“It doesn’t matter, Dad. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Dean turns to put his bowl in the sink. It signals that he doesn’t expect this conversation to go any further and John wonders if both of his sons have so little faith in him as a father.

“Dean... just wait. I want to ask you a question.”

“Okay,” Dean replies, curious.

“If... if you could take exams now and quit school, would you want to?”

He watches Dean’s expression and has his answer before the boy even opens his mouth. In response to the question, Dean’s face has brightened, as if someone’s just asked him if he’d like a million dollars. Before he can answer, Sam appears in the doorway.

“Dean?” he says, oblivious to the loaded silence he’s just walked into. “Can I borrow your grey hoodie?”

And John sees what happens next. Dean looks at his little brother and his expression changes to one of pain. His son’s dilemma is apparent:  if he leaves school, how can he protect Sam in the role he has been charged with ever since he ran from that burning house with his baby brother in his arms all those years ago? The guilt in his features says he feels selfish for even considering the proposition - even though it’s clearly what he wants.

Dean tells Sam where to find the hoodie, then turns his attention back to John once Sam has left.

“I don’t need to quit school,” he says finally, his voice heavy with resignation. “Like I said, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

John nods and tells Dean to make sure they’re not late for school. He’s haunted by Dean’s face once his boys have left. He’s also more certain than ever that Bobby Singer is right. He seeks out the phone book, finds the number he wants and dials it. The call is picked up after several rings.

“Hi, I wonder if you can help me? I need some information...”

OoOoO

A couple of days later John mentions quitting school again, this time in front of Sam. Dean issues the same denial, brushing off John’s concerns and Sam’s apparent support for this plan. John’s completely frustrated, although he realises the problem is of his own making. He’s spent so many years drumming it into Dean that he needs to look out for Sam, his eldest is now incapable of acknowledging and addressing his own needs.

And although John would like to be able to resolve this issue on his own, he’s not so stubborn that he refuses help when it comes, even if it’s once again in the form of Bobby Singer. Bobby takes Dean out on an errand and when they return a couple of hours later, Dean tells John and Sam that he’s got something he wants to say.

Once he’s done, Dean’s face is a picture when Sam jumps up and hugs him tightly. John’s smiling too as he gives Bobby a nod of gratitude.

Later on, John asks Bobby what he said to get Dean to change his mind. Bobby, in his usual self-effacing way, shrugs and says he told Dean that he never finished high school either, that there’s no shame in it, and that his happiness and general wellbeing should not be disregarded for the sake of a ‘complete’ education.

Similarly he shouldn’t be putting a hunt ahead of his own needs. Bobby holds John’s gaze at this point in the re-telling, indicating that John would do well to remember that too. John doesn’t object to the criticism.

He also tells John about Dean’s concerns for Sam – how if he quit school it would be harder to keep an eye on his little brother. It had taken a while, but he’d finally been able to convince Dean that Sam would actually be better off: that Sam wasn’t able to thrive at school because of his worries for Dean. Bobby shakes his head as he recalls the memory of Dean, utterly stunned that Sam would be worrying about _him._ He tells John he didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry at that moment.

John knows what it makes _him_ want to do.

OoOoO

With John’s permission, Dean quits school immediately. He takes the GED three weeks later and passes with a perfect score. They celebrate at a local restaurant, naturally with Bobby Singer in attendance. Although they never discuss it, Sam, John and Bobby all notice how Dean starts to change and, if asked, each of them will agree that it’s definitely a change for the better.

Dean smiles more, particularly when he’s ribbing his little brother about his love of academia, and he cheerfully volunteers to ferry Sam around to all his after-school activities. They’ll move on at some point -- both Winchester boys know they’re on borrowed time wherever they’re living -- but while they’re here, Dean will ensure that Sam is able to make the most of the stability, because even though he had no love for school, he knows how much it means to Sam.

For Sam, the biggest clue that quitting school was the right thing for Dean comes the day his brother unexpectedly bequeaths him his entire collection of hoodies.

With a nonchalant shrug, Dean says it’s a thank you for helping him study for the GED, but, even at thirteen, Sam is smart enough to know what it really means.

**The End**


End file.
